


untitled (how does it feel)

by blowhard



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: (but temporary!!!), Best Friends, Emotional Constipation, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Magical Accidents, Nostalgia, Pining, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blowhard/pseuds/blowhard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jaebum’s mind is telling him no but his body is telling him yes, and Jinyoung doesn’t think it’s that serious (aka temporary genderswitch!jinyoung).</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled (how does it feel)

**Author's Note:**

> written for GOT2015 but finally reposted because of all of the suburban husband shenanigans that went on at fly in dallas. while writing this i looped d'angelo's "untitled (how does it feel)" to that [dream team vine](https://vine.co/v/OA3uJOnFYJn) of jb flopping down on jr after throwing him into the mat and as always ty to my babes who graciously guided me thru every painful paragraph xoxo
> 
> also [this](https://vine.co/v/id1a2lbgzqQ)

There’s nothing extraordinary about the day it probably happens, save for the fact that it’s Mark’s birthday. Mark blows his candles out for his 22nd birthday, everyone cheers, someone asks him what he wished for, he answers, “I wish I had a girlfriend,” everyone laughs because they know Mark doesn’t actually wish for that, then everyone goes to sleep.

There’s nothing extraordinary about the day it actually happens except that when Jinyoung wakes up and walks straight into his bathroom, he reaches down to find he has nothing there. He can’t even see where his hands are from above his magnificent full bust.

Jinyoung is silent as she blinks rapidly at the mirror in disbelief. She even does that totally clichéd thing in the movies where she has to make sure the mirror didn’t suddenly turn into a window, reaching out to grasp at the young woman, feeling only cold glass under her smaller hand. She gropes at her eyebrows, eyelids, cheeks, lips, chin, and feels relative smoothness from her usual 5 o’clock shadow at 2 p.m. face, thinks "oh my god, did I just turn into one of my sisters” but finds that she still kind of resembles herself, the straight bridge of her nose leading to a gently rounded tip, and the mole and signature curl of her lip thankfully apparent. But now what? How will this affect the team? What about Real GOT7? Will she turn back in time for GOT7’s impending comeback? How is she gonna get out of her room without sending Yugyeom and Bambam into cardiac arrest? More importantly, does she just sit down to go pee?

Jinyoung manages to sneak past Yugyeom and Bambam’s room unnoticed, their breathing even and undisturbed. It’s only when she turns the corner to the kitchen that she’s greeted by a full-frontal Jackson, towel slung over his shoulder as he brushes his teeth and looks in the fridge. Jackson glances at her for a second before turning back to the fridge and staring at the yogurt. A surprisingly calm acknowledgement. Maybe this wont be the mess Jinyoung expects it to be—

Jackson stops brushing his teeth and slowly turns back around. 

Jinyoung shuts her eyes and braces herself.

“OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Jackson, let me explain—“ 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE! WHO ARE YOU!” Jinyoung knows this much English, at least. Jackson holds his towel haphazardly, the vertical cloth barely covering his bare chest and waist area. Jinyoung can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of this situation and Jackson’s scandalized pose: a bastardized Birth of Venus, and in place of his arms and hair, a personalized J.WANG towel.

Neither of them are sure if it’s Jinyoung’s cackling or Jackson’s confused English yelling that brings the rest of the team out, but everyone in the apartment is suddenly in the living room and equally as bewildered as still nude Jackson, who sprints into his bedroom. They let her finish laughing, and the silence of the room seems loud.

“Who are you and how did you get in here?” It’s Jaebum who speaks first, and aggressively, of course. His stance is protective, and Jinyoung is a little amused by this. 

“It’s me, Park Jinyoung?” She smiles awkwardly at Jaebum, hand checkmarked beneath her chin, which has absolutely no effect on him. Now she’s nervous.

“Are you asking me?” Jaebum steps forward, and she flinches reflexively, the same way she’s been doing since she learned his roughhousing was equivalent to affection.

“Wait, wait, wait,” machine gun rapping from Mark. “Where is Jinyoung?”

Yugyeom perks up from behind Bambam. “I’ll get him! He’s usually up by now, though…” He scuffles over to their room and back, socks worn lopsidedly on his feet. “His covers are open but he’s not there—”

“SHE’S WEARING HIS CLOTHING! WHAT DID YOU DO TO JINYOUNG HYUNG?” Bambam gasps loudly. Youngjae gasps loudly, too, and squeezes Jaebum’s arm.

“Y’all, I’m Jinyoung. It’s really, super, definitely me!” Jinyoung’s so upset she hears herself slip into satoori, and notices Youngjae loosen his deathgrip on Jaebum’s arm. _Ah, silly Park Jinyoung. You have to prove it to them._

“You!” She points at Mark. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “The only possible reason this could have happened is because of your birthday wish last night!”

He looks at her strangely, as if trying to picture her hiding in the corner of the room behind his fat stack of presents yesterday. “My birthday wish? What birthday wish? Wait, ‘I wish I had a girlfriend’?”

“Everyone knows your wish doesn’t come true if you say it out loud!” says Jackson, suddenly back and hardly more clothed than before.

Jinyoung continues pointing at each of the members and rattling off embarrassing facts about them, from the time Jackson was so tired he accidentally wore a used pair of Jinyoung’s leopard underpants in the bathroom to the time Bambam popped a puberty boner before a fansign and everyone had to shout terrible, unarousing phrases at him before they could greet the fans outside. 

Jaebum’s the last one Jinyoung gets to. His arms are still folded defensively, and she wants to laugh again. “I don’t even know where to start with you, hyung. Do you remember when we argued about what song to dance to for our audition? I wanted to do ‘It’s Raining’ but you insisted on ‘Balloons,’ saying, ‘Well, if we don’t pass, at least I might get a girlfriend.’ Which is funny, because you’re still sing—”

“Stop, stop, stop, okay,” Jaebum blurts out, convinced. “You’re Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung snaps her fingers and points at him, giving that signature knowing Jinyoung nod. “You got it.”

It’s quiet again, until Youngjae hurls himself into Jinyoung’s arms (and chest), practically sobbing. “Hyung! It’s really you!” 

Yugyeom and Bambam sigh like they’ve been holding their breath the entire time. “I was so scared,” says Yugyeom. “I thought she was a sasaeng!” Bambam nods enthusiastically in agreement.

Mark even perks up in the mayhem. “Wait, _you_ wished to be a girl? On my birthday?” Not surprising coming from Mr. Remedial English and History himself.

“Thank God. I thought I had let a stranger see my di—” Jackson begins saying, before being swatted on the back of the head.

“Sorry. Habit when girls are around,” mutters Jaebum, half-relieved, half-nauseated.

_______________

He may have asked for this.

As the newest group in JYP, GOT7 was without the conflict that had plagued the bands before them; member replacement, termination, marriage, and consolidation ( _gotta get over it someday, Jaebum_ ). It was all going too smoothly, minus the fact that Jaebum hadn’t touched real boob in, like, six months (if you’re not counting Baek Z Young, and Jaebum wasn’t).

Jaebum, being twenty years old and in peak physical condition, has needs. These needs could usually be fulfilled in the shower, quickly if Jaebum held his breath and flicked his wrist fast enough, or when Youngjae was out. Idol life was tough when temptation came at him in the form of friendly female idols casually trading phone numbers during music broadcasts and Instagram direct messages from fans, but Jaebum had obligations.

It’s because of this dedication to his duty that Jaebum unwittingly fulfilled his “girlfriend need” with Jinyoung, mostly because Jinyoung was always there, available. No, they never physically fooled around, but sometimes Jaebum felt like Jinyoung always knew too much, was too self-aware, and unconsciously bought into the role as well. To be considerate without even knowing why, that’s the Jinyoung he knew, the Jinyoung that may or may not have been the unintentional subject of Jaebum’s secret codependence. To be there for him when it really mattered, like when Jaebum needed to be restrained from punching every mirror he saw himself in during their Dream High 2 days. Or simpler things, like letting him eat more of their shared _ramyun_ on a cold night after practice or quickly conceding when Jaebum asks him to turn off that damn Chris Brown playlist after looping it for three hours.

So, yes, when Mark jokingly said, “I wish I had a girlfriend,” maybe, just maybe Jaebum had sincerely wished the same. Unfortunately, Jinyoung sporting cans for days was not what he had in mind.

When Jinyoung slings an arm around his neck for the ensuing group hug and her boob smashes into his shoulder, Jaebum swallows dryly.

__________

Jinyoung the Girl is pretty easy to get used to. His older sisters’ influences fit well in this body, his habitual coddling a mirrored product of the unconditional love Jinyoung had been spoiled by his whole life. Jinyoung tidying up the dinner table. Jinyoung tying her hair up and sweeping the living room floor. Fixing collars, touching up bangs, smacking someone’s back when he’s not sitting up straight.

It’s Jinyoung’s usual behavior, but her now feminine charm has a strange effect on the team. Jackson acts weirdly chivalrous around her,pulling her chair out for her at the dinner table and squealing delightedly when she smacks him on the shoulder as a thank you. Mark’s aegyo is almost completely absent (“Do you think you’re cool, hyung?” Jinyoung asks, and Mark wiggles his shoulders and pouts). Yugyeom plops down next to her when they’re watching TV and rests his head in her lap, only to be dragged away by a sullen Jackson, yelling “YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT WITH GIRLS!” Jinyoung just revels in it, the appreciation of attention probably also a product of the love Jinyoung had been spoiled by his whole life.

Despite it all, it’s comeback season and there’s no way Noyoung hyung is going to let this _minor inconvenience_ stop them from practicing, so the group packs into the vans carefully, making sure that Jinyoung is fully hidden beneath scarves, sunglasses, and a massive parka. They arrive at the building with no problems.

It’s half an hour later and she had been thoughtless, Jinyoung realizes, as she carefully watches herself hopping (flopping) around to A’s chorus in the mirror. Her clothing isn’t even revealing, but my god, even the shameless have their limits. Her boobs, although crushed into her ribcage, bounce distractingly beneath her favorite breathable (read: thin) boatneck top. Yugyeom, usually vigilant during practice, manages to crash into almost every member at least once in his effort to not look near Jinyoung’s reflection, red-faced and embarrassed whenever she slides next to him in formation. On the contrary, Bambam and Jackson can’t stop turning their heads to glance at her like she’s some jiggly train wreck, groaning “oh my god!” in exasperation when they miss their marks. Jinyoung, engrossed in dancing, also makes the mistake of lifting her shirt up during Jackson’s part, and it’s then that Jaebum has to stop them for a breather. 

It’s only when their effort fogs the edges of the practice room mirrors that they get a short break and Mark walks over to Jinyoung, one of the scarves in his hand. “I think you need this,” he laughs, and helps wrap it around her chest.

“My prince charming,” coos Jinyoung, and she thinks Mark might have looked away from her more quickly than usual.

“No flirting during practice!” yells Youngjae from his place on the ground, overlooking how he’s draped over a sprawled Jaebum like a loud, heavy blanket. Jaebum just rolls over and closes his eyes.

____________

“‘You would get it if you were a girl,’ she says. ‘I need it for dance practice,’ she says. ‘Back problems,’ she says. What about my problems. What about me.”

Jaebum nervously adjusts his hat/sunglasses/mask combo in front of a mirror. He’s sweating profusely just thinking about the repercussions of getting caught in Victoria’s Secret. Does he look like a pervert? Would people think he’s shopping for a girlfriend (his internal laughter is bitter)? 

A hand taps lightly on his shoulder and Jaebum tenses up so fast, he might throw up a little in his mouth when he starts pretending that no, he’s not famous, no, he’s never heard of GOT7, no, he’s not actually in the store, he’s a figment of your imagination–

“What do you think of this one?” Jinyoung asks, holding up a negligee so see-through, it seems illogical to spend money on it at all. Jaebum can’t help but imagine her in it though, can practically feel the faux fur and her cleavage against his face, and hopefully the face mask moisture he’s suddenly aware of is solely perspiration and not a death-inducing nosebleed.

“Really?” His voice comes out horrified, strangled. Death might be better. 

She points at him and laughs. “Sorry! Your entire head is covered but even I can see your ears are red.” She laughs more. Jaebum wants to smash his face into a table of velour sweatpants, the ones that say “LOVE PINK” on the butt so he can scream. “Really sorry!” 

This continues for awhile. Jaebum watches Jinyoung choose a bunch of basic stuff out of the corner of his eye, trying not to look too interested, and Jinyoung presses a lacy garter and belt combo against the lower half of her body, making Jaebum threaten leaving her to pay for it on her own. 

He, of course, gives her the card when they check out. Jinyoung doesn’t even look at him when he hands it to her, and the cashier throws an expectant, knowing look at Jaebum, eyebrows jumping on his forehead.

Jaebum yells, “IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK,” face reddening all over again, and all the employees stare at him with huge smiles as the two walk out. Jinyoung’s cackling again as she throws the pink bag over her back, its silver lettering mocking Jaebum as he follows her back to the van.

SECRET, he reads. His internal laughter is truly bitter today.

 

“Wow. No wonder girls take their bras off as soon as they get home,” Jinyoung mutters, punching the door code without looking. It’s still weird to see Jinyoung like this, jeans slung low on her hips, t-shirt loose but fashionable on her figure. Or, you know, female, thinks Jaebum.

Jinyoung unsnaps the hooks from behind with surprising ease and pulls her arms through her shirt, a strangely natural process for someone who’s only had a bra for three hours. Jaebum has to remind himself that this is not Jinyoung’s first experience with a bra (and also has to admit that Jinyoung’s skill level with a bra puts his own to shame). She removes it from under as soon as she opens the door.

“Yugyeom, I can see you staring,” says Jinyoung from the shoe rack, sneaker dangling in one hand, nude bra in the other. Yugyeom actually does stare incredulously from his place on the couch, PS4 controller now useless in his hands as Bambam demolishes his unmoving character on the screen. 

“It’s! I! Me—” the poor thing sputters embarrassedly, suddenly unaware of what to do with his hands. As they fly up to cover his reddening face, he panics, yelling, "It’s because you’re ugly!"

The air purifier hums pleasantly in the silence of the living room.

Surely, Jinyoung is mature enough to recognize this as— 

Shouting “YAH! KIM YUGYEOM, YOU TAKE THAT BACK!”, she launches her bra into Yugyeom’s face. Jaebum walks in as Yugyeom's shrieking and Bambam’s pointing at the tangled bra in his hands, screaming “EEWWE!” while Jackson hyena-laughs obnoxiously. Inexplicably, Youngjae is also yelling at something completely unrelated on his phone. Mark slams his bedroom door shut. 

Welcome home.

_________

The Girl Effect wears off a little as soon as everyone remembers that beneath the silky locks and nice skin is still the same ol’ gross Park Jinyoung. Someone finds a half-eaten three-week-old kimbap in her room when they’re looking for some clean socks under her bed, which they don’t find. Jinyoung still can’t bring herself to take daily showers, even after practice, especially now that her hair takes twice as long to wash and condition properly. Even less now that she can’t be on TV. Bambam almost cries when he cracks their body-length mirror in the living room after she shoves him for an entirely too affectionate hug. “Hyung, you’re bad luck,” he says through his hands, and Jinyoung lifts her foot to kick him.

It’s this ease of existence that really gets Jaebum, though. That's what's hot to him after being in the industry: a girl in (Jinyoung's) boxers, hair tie loose in a messy bun, mouth open as she snores lightly. Jinyoung is kind of ugly when she sleeps, because Jinyoung is ugly when he sleeps— it’s the only time he puts his guard down. Faced with near perfection daily, Jinyoung’s lack of consideration is refreshing, and Jaebum hates to admit this.

Everything begins settling back into normalcy except Jaebum’s increasingly louder internal dialogue. Jinyoung and him? Simple. Jinyoung’s “without you, there would be no me” was clear and resonant at the end of I GOT7 because he felt the same. Jaebum wasn’t even embarrassed when they asked him to sing a happy birthday Jr. version of “Hooked.” At the same time, that Jinyoung wasn’t an attractive girl.

Is that all it is though? Jinyoung’s long, dark hair? Her long legs, shapely thighs? The coquettish smile? Maybe her big… heart? Or is it that she’s a girl within reach who knows him inside and out, who’s already accepted him with all of his insecurities and shortcomings? That Jaebum wouldn’t have to go through all of that “getting to know you” bullshit? Is it because Jinyoung would want, has almost always wanted what Jaebum wants? 

It’s purely physical, Jaebum hopes, and tries to file these thoughts away as deep as he can when their manager knocks on his door for an impromptu meeting. 

The boys and Jinyoung are ushered into the main meeting room. Unscheduled meetings aren’t usually good, thinks Jaebum — _remembers_ Jaebum — and he catches Jinyoung looking at him as the boys enter the room one by one. Jinyoung cocks her head in acknowledgment, makes an ugly face. Jaebum makes an ugly disapproving face back, his chin sinking into his neck as he tightens his lips. The manager clears his throat to interrupt them, and they follow him in, embarrassed. 

“I’m sure you’ve already figured it out, but comeback has been postponed,” says the manager. “We’re not any closer to figuring out what will make Jinyoung turn back, which means we’re just gonna have to wait it out. Because of this, we’ll have to give up a few tour dates and our bids on MBC Showtime and MCing Music Core and focus on recording the rest of the album. Any questions?”

——————

Jaebum sits at his desk feeling claustrophobic, utterly cramped by the ceiling-high clothing rack, extended mattress, and small size of the shared room. On his immediate desk are untouched stacks of papers, most likely schedules and scripts from the managers for their upcoming comeback. Further on his desk are fangifts, anything from letters to personalized trinkets, and in the middle sits the first gift he received at a fansign, just a small wooden box with “JJ Project jjang! JB jjang!” handpainted on it. It used to have chocolate inside, two thick J shaped pieces that he shared with Jinyoung in the car ride back before they both passed out, the sweetness of the candy and their future lulling them to sleep. Inside of it now is a costume ring a stylist gave to him during the Bounce photoshoot, saying, “Never forget this time. This is just beginning!”

Now, this. Jaebum swivels around in his chair and doesn’t know where to start. Should he make the bed, put Youngjae’s clothes back in the drawer, sort papers, think of what they’ll do if Jinyoung doesn’t turn back in time or ever? What of their relevance, album sales, digital sales, the gayos? He burrows his head in his arms for awhile, the darkness beneath them feeling more clear and spacious than above. He doesn’t hear his door open.

“Oppa-ya, I love you~” he does hear, and he nearly forgets there’s a girl living in the apartment, turning his chair around so violently he almost falls out of it. Jinyoung peeks inside the room, smirking.

“No, thank you,” says Jaebum, turning back to his desk to bury his face in his hands again.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Even if you were twice the man I am, you still couldn’t get me,” she teases from the doorway, flipping her hair.

“Like I’d date a girl as dirty as you. I can smell your hair from here.”

“ _Aigoo_. That’s not proper to say to a lady.” Jinyoung steps in the room and punches him playfully - HARD ENOUGH TO BRUISE - and sets Jaebum off.

Jaebum lunges at her. It’s his instinct to strangle Jinyoung, his want to wrap his hands tightly around Jinyoung’s neck until he smacks him on the shoulder in defeat, red in the face, chest heaving. Jinyoung the Girl flinches instead, and Jaebum is suddenly overwhelmed by the shame this feeling gives him. This is all very confusing because Jaebum’s never ever wanted to hit a woman before and Jinyoung is a man — a boy, even — but he stops mid-grab to pat both of her shoulders awkwardly. 

“Hyung. What are you doing.” Jinyoung looks him in the eye, squinting.

“I can’t hit you,” he says, chest deflating. This profound guilt—

“I understand. You’re taken by my womanly charms. I’ll consider this one a victory,” Jinyoung says, and rolls up her sleeves before punching Jaebum in the same place equally as hard.

Next thing he knows, he’s wrestled Jinyoung to the mattress on the floor, and she laughs as he socks her raised arm. 

“Hey! ” she yelps, struggling beneath him. Usually Jinyoung could kick him off easily, smash his palm straight into his sternum and twist out of his grasp, a practiced movement Jaebum’s conceded to countless times before but now Jinyoung just wriggles uselessly, swatting him on the arm. 

It’s choreography, and Jaebum gets a little lost in his thoughts the way he does when he’s dancing. The physical contact with Jinyoung reminds him it’s been awhile since they’ve been really alone together, and he thinks of how he finds himself watching their MTV Diary videos in a YouTube playlist he made sometimes, and how different it is now being responsible for six other people instead of sharing the responsibilities with one. Jinyoung knows this about him. That’s why he doesn’t ask why Jaebum leaves their apartment silently to practice by himself, doesn’t always pry when Jaebum gets this way.

It’s only when the scent of shampoo and today wafts from Jinyoung does he snap out of it, and he locks eyes with the breathless girl below him, her chest heaving and cheeks pink in effort. 

“Um…” she says, and he’s staring at her. She still looks like Jinyoung, fuller lashes, a softer curve of her jaw and a more pronounced pout. Jaebum’s eyes widen in realization about the same time Jinyoung’s does, and they scramble to untangle themselves on the small mattress.

“Feeling a little better after almost dislocating my arm?” mutters Jinyoung. She’s rolling her shoulder, a hand pressed into her blade, and Jaebum feels a little worse for it than normal.

“Yeah. My bad,” he says, and falls back on the mattress. “It’s just,” he sighs, “it’s not like we asked for this.” He mentally crosses his fingers behind his back.

Jinyoung shrugs and falls back next to him. “Yeah, but it’s not that bad. Music Core’s rigged and Showtime isn’t exactly ‘Misaeng.’ I thought maybe EXO was just boring so I watched an A Pink episode and even Bomi couldn’t make that show interesting.”

“More boring than Diary?” Jaebum laughs.

“You say that, but we both know I caught you watching it more than once.” Jinyoung rolls over on her side to face him. “You worry too much, hyung. If all else fails, we can always ride on Jackson’s coattails.” She watches his eyes drop and his face harden. “Or not.”

“What are we gonna do about you, though?”

“There’s no point in stressing out if we can’t do anything about it, right? Minus these,” she says, glancing down her torso, “everything is the same. Let’s take it one day at a time. There’s seven of us now. Trust us, and most importantly, me.”

Jaebum wishes he didn’t make the distinction.

————

They’re asked to buy groceries tonight in celebration of getting their stove fixed (a consolation prize for having their comeback pushed later), but everyone who could be trusted to go is busy, save Jinyoung and Jaebum. The last time Yugyeom and Bambam went along for groceries, they came back with $50 worth in snacks that lasted a whole two days.

It’s late and pretty quiet at the store. Most of the people there are young, picking up instant “single life” food because they’re too busy studying or partying, which thankfully means too busy to notice an idol and his female friend wheeling a full cart around the store. 

They stop by the interior decorating section for a mirror to replace the one Bambam cracked. They’re outrageously priced, and Jaebum stands in front of the cheapest, ugliest one, wondering if there are other colors. He almost wants to turn around and scold Jinyoung for breaking their old one, tease her, saying _if only you had been a little more ladylike._

He’s almost decided between lime green and dark yellow when he feels her at his back. “We look kinda like that Myungsoo scandal from last year, except you’re uglier and a worse actor,” notes Jinyoung, peering into the mirror from behind him. Jaebum slowly registers the soft pressure as her chest against his back and feels his entire body heat up in response.

“Yeah, well. You’re no f(X) Krystal,” he says, looking at her reflection. 

“You’re right. I’m more glamorous,” she says, winking, and (unintentionally? Jaebum probably shouldn’t give her that much credit) pushes against him one more time before grabbing the mirror.

Jinyoung needs help more than once, straining as she tries to grab the last bottle of sesame oil just out of reach on the shelf, her hand grazing the corner of the toilet paper as she jumps to grab a 12 pack. Jaebum feels an incomprehensible way when he hands her the stuff and she seems a little peeved about it, lips pressed tightly when she places the items in the cart. “Aww, little Jinyoungie’s mad she can’t reach things anymore,” he babytalks to her, ruffling the cap on her head.

She swats his hand away and pushes the cart down the aisle. “You know I’m taller than you, right? I’ll kill you when I turn back.” 

_Turn back_ , Jaebum ignores.

The dorm feels like a real home today, heat rising from the food on the table, forks and spoons clinking noisily against floral decorated dishes, chatter crescendoing as the dishes are left empty. Bambam reaches over to grab the last piece of pork on the platter at the same time Jackson does. A gracious exchange of “No, you can have it, hyung,” and “No, you’re still growing,” and their chopsticks clash when they reach over to grab it. In between “You’re right, I still need to get muscles,” and “HEY! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD I’M WORKING FOR THIS BAND!” Yugyeom and Youngjae happily share the piece of pork together.

Jaebum begins washing the dishes, having lost their usual game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Mark manages to escape cleaning duty for an entire second month in a row, and Jaebum almost suspects collusion before dismissing it; Mark would never exert that effort and/or pull it off by himself. He’s scrubbing a pan when someone stands next to him and starts drying the dishes. “Thanks,” he says without looking.

“No problem, hyung,” says Jinyoung, and Jaebum interprets the warmth he feels as gratitude, and nothing else.

_________________

Jaebum’s not surprised when Jinyoung pokes her head through the door later that week. “Oppa-ya,” she drawls, because she’s from the Dirty South and she knows that’s what Seoul guys are into.

“Really? You had to pull ‘oppa-ya’ on me again?” The frustrated groan builds instinctively his diaphragm.

“What can I say? You’re practically my older brother.” Jaebum feels a little sick hearing that, considering he’s fighting brotherhood’s losing battle against convenience and Jinyoung’s damned eagerness to please.

“Did you need something?” he asks, and tries to focus on the schedule on the table.

“Nothing important, just wanted to talk to my JB hyung,” she says, melody resonant in her voice, and then Jaebum feels her behind him. Jinyoung’s hands curl around his neck loosely, thumbs pushed into the spots he’s known to tense up. It feels good, and Jaebum lets her work a little longer before he rolls his head around to see her focused on a knot in his shoulder, chewing her lip in concentration.

“Stop.”

“What?” Jinyoung doesn’t look at him, doesn’t stop massaging or biting her lip.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” Jaebum’s not really sure what he means when he asks. The frustrated groan starts building again. He should probably get that checked.

“Me? What?” Jinyoung’s theatre major is of some use after all. Jaebum’s about to crack, he’s about to yell, so he swivels around threateningly and is met by Jinyoung’s face, mere inches away.

“Hey,” she says, face still close. Jaebum can smell toothpaste.

“Wh-what?” Jaebum hears himself stammer. He knows Jinyoung can smell the fear, the shame, and he hopes it’ll go away when he clears his throat, shifts his eyes as calmly as possible.

“Have you ever thought about me before?” she asks, eyes blinking in curiosity. 

Jaebum would rather die than answer this honestly. “Are you fucking crazy?” Ah, yes. The classic answer the question with another question, which is totally not suspicious at all. Jinyoung loves making Jaebum squirm, and her pleasure is apparent when a smirk curls almost sinisterly on her face.

“Don’t lie,” she says, hair somehow falling suggestively in front of her face. “You’d really have to be crazy to not think about me.”

Jaebum’s holding his breath, trying not to flare his nostrils in distress. Jinyoung continues forward, and she’s close enough for him to feel heat emanating from her. For the first time in what feels like ages, he has no idea what’s going on. 

_You always jump the gun_ , Jinyoung’s voice echoes a second too late, a decibel too soft, and he grumbles, “Yeah,” sort of growls, “yeah, I have.”

Jinyoung jolts back, eyes wide in awe, as if slapped by the force of his words — lightly, but still. “Wait, really?”

This must be Hell. “Did you not just ask me?” He thinks he feels his face melt off in the heat of his embarrassment. 

“I just thought you would say no! Look at you,” and Jinyoung’s patting him on the back proudly. “So straightforward with girls.”

“Jinyoung, don’t patronize me.” _Way to be defensive, Jaebum_. “Besides, what’s the point of asking me this?”

“It’s just… I know this whole ordeal’s been stressful and I know how you get. I’m just saying if you’re interested, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it.”

“YOU’RE thinking about me?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions! I’m saying I’m stressed out, too. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to stay this way, and there’s only so much I can do myself—”

Frantic, Jaebum tries to quiet her, asking “Do you hear what you’re saying? Do you know what you’re asking of me?” 

“Relax, hyung. I’m just putting it out there. That’s what friendship is, right?” and she leaves the room casually, as if she had just been talking about tomorrow’s schedule. Youngjae bounds in soon after, fresh and ready to go to bed, blissfully ignorant of the transgression that had just taken place in the comfort of their room while Jaebum just sits there, eyes robbed of his soul.

—————-

Dawn breaks and Jaebum absently scrolls through the fancafe to hopefully distract himself from the question that’s kept him up the entire night. Instead, he starts a pro/con list in his notes, begins listing reason after reason that this is a Bad Idea, that his “we will always be together” would be ruined, that there can be no good from “releasing some stress” just because _his body is telling him yes_ (the only thing in his pros, to be honest).

Jaebum considers his heavily unbalanced list. He then launches the phone into the pile of clothes across the room and screams into his pillow, thrashing violently until he’s red in the face.

“Hyung. Please. Please just stop,” says the forgotten lump next to him miserably, the yo-yoing intonation exaggerated by lethargy. “It’s my birthday.”

 

 

A distorted “Happy Birthday (Techno Remix)” buzzes from the restaurant’s recessed ceiling speakers in celebration of Youngjae and Jinyoung’s birthdays, albeit late. The pandemonium that ensued from Jinyoung’s transformation had left the boys with no time for a proper celebration, and now that their schedule had been adjusted, they’ve been given this day off with private rooms and JYP’s given the green light for alcohol. 

It’s eight servings of hanwoo beef and six bottles of soju later, and a few of the boys have gotten much looser, much to Jaebum’s discomfort. It’s only after Jackson courageously offers to be Jinyoung's dark horse and drink more than half of her beer/soju/rice wine/plum wine birthday cocktail that the conversation becomes invasive. 

“Jinyoungie,” says Jackson, and her name sounds heavy in his mouth. For someone who claims to enjoy drinking, six soju shots and the equivalent of two mixed cocktails are enough to have Jackson heavy-lidded and prying.

“I need to know. Have you jacked off yet?” Absolutely shameless. Jinyoung’s not surprised.

“Jackson, I can’t ‘jack off’. Plus, that’s like if I asked you why you’ve been taking forty minute showers when we all know you only use the all-in-one shampoo and body wash.”

“HEY, WHAT KIND OF FRIEND ARE YOU? YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN—”

“Noona,” says Youngjae, a little louder than normal. He’s got his empty shot glass grasped in his softly pink hand and his face is bright red; the color leads down his neck, probably all over his body. Bambam and Yugyeom are suspiciously lucid when Jinyoung turns to face the three of them.

Jinyoung corrects, “You mean, ‘Hyung—’”

“Where’s the clitoris?” Jaebum hears in Youngjae’s voice from across the table, and he pours half a bottle of soju in Mark’s glass in shock.

“You can ask Mark hyung all about that,” Jinyoung says, pointing, and Mark barely even looks up from his bowl of soup. Stone-cold rejection.

“Okay,” interrupts Jaebum, “some people at this table are trying to eat. Please refrain from such inappropriate language.”

They boys get a little huffy, but their attention spans are much shorter when diluted with alcohol. They raise their glasses for another group shot, and Jinyoung discreetly leans over to Jaebum, asking, “You sure you don’t have any questions either?” a distinct pink glow high on her cheeks.

Jaebum throws the shot back instead and doesn’t indulge her with an answer, hoping to distract from his own non-alcohol induced flush.

 

Jaebum hands over the company card at the end of the night, buzz low but steady. Jinyoung’s at the same level, just a little sleepier, face warm and slightly rosy. Bambam and Yugyeom are surprisingly adept at drinking, and together they drag Youngjae into their van, making sure the penis drawn on his forehead remains pristine. In a showcase of brute strength, Mark brings Jackson to the older members’ respective van. Jackson managed to pass out gracefully after drawing said pristine penis on Youngjae’s forehead with a staff member’s lipstick tube.

As soon as they get home, all the boys (and Jinyoung) slowly make their way into their rooms, or close to it. Jackson makes it into his room, but falls asleep on Mark’s side. Yugyeom places Youngjae on the living room couch. “It’s closer to the bathroom,” he says, and it seems like a good idea. They put a trashcan next to his face, just in case. 

Jaebum lies in the middle of his mattress waiting for his turn in the bathroom, heart still working to metabolize the alcohol. He’s still contemplating the meaning of Jinyoung’s proposition. If he came to the same understanding he came to last night, he’s also happy Youngjae’s sleeping in the living room.

What he doesn’t expect is Jinyoung at his door, looking bored. “Did you think about it?”

He pulls her inside and shuts the door behind him, paranoid. “Jinyoung, please. Yes, I did think about it. And?”

“So you’re cool with it.”

“I’m not entirely against the idea, but—”

Jinyoung surges forward, crashes her mouth into his, and he can still taste the wine on her tongue. It’s pleasant, and he lets her lead him to the bed until he bangs his head into the wall and she has the gall to laugh at him. It’s kind of weird, though. Jaebum only finds endearment when he opens his eyes to look at her from his wince, feels like what should be crippling embarrassment melting into heady comfort and security as he looks at her smile. And god, now it’s like this, something more than just temporary relief as he eases her onto his lap. She kisses him like she’s been waiting for this, like it makes sense, and lets him slide his tongue against hers, bite her lip like he’s kissed her a million times before. It’s only when Jinyoung runs her fingers along his zipper does he pull away from her, gasping, looking to her for an answer. 

“We can’t be doing this. I-I can’t do this to you,” says Jaebum, and he’s shaking in restraint, feels guilty when he wants her permission.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, and Jaebum takes in the light scent of soju and floral shampoo. “No one has to know, hyung.” He wants to believe her, and ignores his faint heartache. 

Jinyoung palms him through his jeans as he tries to push the voice steadily repeating _THIS IS WRONG_ as far back as it can go. His residual buzz helps drown it, and Jaebum lets himself enjoy the feeling, can feel tension melt from his shoulders and back and focuses on the very real girl in front of him.

Leave it to Jinyoung to know exactly what Jaebum would want. She couldn’t even pretend Jaebum’s porn folder wasn’t etched deep in her memory, like feigning ignorance and innocence would be disrespectful to him. And that’s really it. Jinyoung wouldn’t insult Jaebum that way, wouldn’t pretend she’s anything but the Jinyoung he’s known all these years. So when she finally pops the restrictive button of his jeans, spits in her hand and shoves the elastic of his boxers out of the way, there’s a different freedom he feels.

“Shit, sorry,” she breathes, “I’ve only seen how this goes from the guy’s perspective,” and Jaebum is instantly, deeply embarrassed. It must show on his face, because Jinyoung starts fucking giggling. He wants to defend himself, tell her it’s not what she thinks, but she reassures him with the slick slide of her hand, _Don’t worry, I already know_. 

“Ah, I almost forgot to ask,” Jinyoung murmurs against the shell of his ear, airy and purposeful, sliding her arm around his neck, “do you want me to call you hyung or oppa?” and Jaebum nearly chokes on his inhale, is equal parts absolutely mortified and reluctantly _so fucking into it_. He has to squeeze his eyes so tightly it hurts, to lessen the extremity of the question, to make sure he doesn’t blow it in her palm right now.

“Don’t fuck around,” he grits through his teeth, and it’s totally lacking bite. Jinyoung takes one defiant look at him, and there’s almost an edge of malice when she leans up against him again, her chest flush against his, to whisper, “Oppa it is.”

Then, Jaebum’s got Jinyoung under him, her back on the mattress, legs framing his hips, skirt ruched up above her belly when there’s finally a break. Jinyoung’s worked him out of his pants, even rolled a condom on (thanks to all the considerate I GOT7s out there), and he’s hard enough to hammer nails, but she just stares at him, panting. “What?” says Jaebum awkwardly, staring back at her. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

Jinyoung looks up and the wideness of her eyes makes him want to die. “I’ve never thought about it inside of me, though,” she says, and it unearths something wholly different in him, which he also hides deep in the back of his mind.

He’s lined himself up, made her squirm in his adjustment. The push in is slow, unbearably hot, and Jinyoung actually shivers when he’s got the tip in, then Jaebum has to close his eyes, screw them shut because the scene before him is too great. When he opens them again, he can see Jinyoung will herself to relax to let him in, deep breaths through her nose, her chest rising, the way they’ve learned as singers.

Jinyoung grips his wrist, brings him back to her, and she looks expectant, enthusiastic, the way Jinyoung would when presented with a challenge. “Come on, hyung,” she whispers, arches her back, and rolls her hips to coax him further in.

When he’s finally seated in her, the slide tight like he’s being pulled, Jaebum is shamefully unsure of how long he can last. On the other hand, Jinyoung’s dazed, stunned, like she’s not yet processed the feeling of him inside of her, and Jaebum lifts her chin to look at her face. “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” he asks, gentle and tender, but Jinyoung just squeezes his wrist tightly.

“Everything’s good,” she says, eyes focusing, “go ahead.”

It’s when he starts moving in a sure, steady rhythm that Jinyoung looks like she’s going through a whole spectrum of emotion, and Jaebum watches her eyelashes flutter through each shade. He thinks he sees dazed again, maybe a bit of embarrassment, possibly reluctant want, like she can’t believe it. Then Jinyoung digs her fingernails into his wrist.

“Hey,” she says, and she looks at him, eyes heavy, eyebrows slightly knitted. “I’m not your fucking girlfriend. I can take it.” 

Jaebum must take too long of a moment to process what she says, because next thing he knows, he’s on his back on the bed, a hand briefly fisted in his hair, and Jinyoung looms above him, straddling him. She fucking leads him inside of her on her own, and it’s all happening so fast Jaebum has to grasp the soft, supple skin of her thighs to ground himself. Jinyoung sets a brutal pace, back bowed, head thrown back like Jaebum’s only seen in videos, and he’s sure he can’t last much longer. It’s only when Jinyoung falls forward, her breath punctuated staccato by the force of his thrusts, her hands on his chest to support her, that he sees her face. All she does is smile sincerely, like he’s done her a favor, and he doesn’t even have time to warn her when he comes.

“Wait, did you really just...? Did you just come?” and she slides off of him, surprised, even sympathetic.

He pulls off the condom, ties it off, and tosses it in the trash, ever diligent in his quest for cleanliness. “Jinyoung, just. Just don’t even go there right now,” he begins saying because he can see Jinyoung’s eyes light up in laughter, taunting his pride.

“I thought you were supposed to be the hyung between us,” she laughs, and is effectively silenced when Jaebum kisses her again, starts peppering kisses along her jaw, down her neck, down her chest, navel. Jinyoung looks down, daring him. 

“How do I know you won’t give out again?” she teases, and this time Jaebum’s ready.

“Hey, they don’t call me ‘sharp-tongued’ for nothing,” he quips back, and winks at her from between her legs.

 

 

Jaebum snores himself awake and realizes he’s alone. He’s kind of relieved. Jinyoung would probably make fun of him for waking up smiling. 

The empty side of the bed isn’t warm anymore, and there’s no specific scent left for Jaebum to feel nostalgic about as he lies spread eagled in the sheets. It just smells like Jinyoung. Regular, familiar Jinyoung with his super fake idol persona, his highkey moodiness, his flamboyant eccentricity. The Jinyoung he’s seen tear up countless times but has only seen cry twice: once when they both passed their audition and he shakily sniffled his way through a recorded thank you, and another time after the JJ Project consolidation meeting when he didn’t think anyone was looking. 

There’s clinking in the kitchen, then the scent of melted butter and the crackling of eggs on a pan. 

Jaebum gets up, shoulders lighter than they probably should be. He turns the corner, ruffling the back of his head the way he’s seen in the dramas, and sees short black hair, broad shoulders, a tapered waist.

“You hungry, hyung?” Jinyoung asks noncommittally, his voice low and rough from sleep, and Jaebum feels sick.

—————————

Hardcore practice begins in full swing almost immediately after management hears Jinyoung’s back to his original self. He’s swept up in album recording, salon visits, and extra personality training classes (if only to get his hiatus story straight). Comeback is imminent and suddenly they’ve got no time to breathe. When the panic hits all seven of them, it’s Jaebum who takes it the hardest. Granted, he’s grown a lot; he doesn’t cope with his anger by yelling at people anymore — namely, his 2pm seniors when they’re trying to play a prank on him — but with the added stress of these _turbulent emotions_ , he’s definitely feeling a little impatient.

They’re going through the twelfth run through of their new title track and all Jaebum can think about is how annoyed he is. Why did this happen to him? As if his obligations weren’t enough. Did he do something to deserve it? Was this his penance for being greedy: wanting fame, success, _and_ companionship?

Then Jinyoung leans over to pick up a towel and Jaebum follows the strong lines of his legs to the curve of his ass, and he is abruptly more irritable than he can stand, his frustrated groan bubbling into a low grumble. _Fresh air_ , he thinks, _I just need some fresh air_ , and trips on an empty water bottle on the way to the door.

Without thinking, Jaebum kicks it across the room, nearly beaning Mark before it hits the wall, clattering noisily on the floor. Everyone turns to look at him. Of fucking course Jinyoung’s the first one to run up to him, look into his eyes, ask if he’s okay, and Jaebum doesn’t want to do it but he shrugs him off before he can grasp him, as if his touch would burn.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” asks Jinyoung, his concern genuine, and Jaebum needs to get outside.

“Don’t—! Don’t touch me,” he says. 

Jinyoung steps away from him, completely taken aback. “What did I do?”

And fuck, Jinyoung shouldn’t have asked because Jaebum knows it’s not his fault but he still feels like it is, and unfortunately Jaebum’s mouth is quicker than his brain, so he yells, “Why couldn’t you have just stayed a girl? Now every time I look at you, all I remember is the way you felt when—” and Jaebum only stops when he recognizes the abject horror on everyone’s faces, especially Jinyoung’s.

Jaebum makes a run for it awhile everyone is busy making sense of what happened.

“Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” Jackson says as soon as they get outside. Youngjae jogs out behind him, shocked.

Jaebum finally yells that same frustrated yell that wells up whenever words fail him.

—————————

It’s painful for the rest of the group. As the unspoken foundation of the band, Jaebum and Jinyoung’s fight affects them at almost every level. If either Jaebum or Jinyoung is present, the other is either checked out mentally, avoiding eye contact, or excuses himself from the room, claiming vocal practice, bathroom emergencies, needing to check if they left the stove on at home. The only time they’ll be in the same room at once is for dance practice, and even then, their interaction is stilted, awkward, like they’re back to their first day at JYP open auditions and the both of them have predispositions about each other’s hometowns.

One night, Youngjae turns to Jaebum while they’re lying in bed and asks him woefully, “Is it true we have to choose if we want to be in a group with you OR Jinyoung hyung?” Jaebum answers by putting several pillows and a blanket between them and falling asleep before Youngjae with a scowl on his face.

Later, Jinyoung finds Jackson sadly separating Jinyoung’s shoes from Jaebum’s in the shoe rack. He punches him in the arm as hard as he did as a girl, and Jackson’s squeal is anything but delighted.

 

Jaebum’s checking around their walk-in closet for a box of costume clothing their manager texted him about, and he’s squatting in front of a massive box of stuffed animals, his arm plunged in all the way up to his armpit, when Jinyoung steps in. 

Their eyes meet for less than a second, and Jinyoung turns around. “I’m just getting Bambam’s jacket,” he says, and begins browsing through the collection. “Huh? It should be between these two—” he begins saying, until he sees Bambam holding it on the other side of the door, taunting him.

“Hey!” yells Jinyoung as Bambam slams and locks the door with quickness. Jinyoung runs up to the door and bangs his fist uselessly against it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I watched some marriage counseling videos yesterday—”

“I thought you were watching the Parent Trap yesterday,” says Yugyeom, probably from behind him.

“Bambam, you’d better open this door right now. I’ve taken real counseling classes at school and—”

“Bye!” they hear Bambam say, his voice coming from a distance, like he’d been walking away. Jinyoung bangs his fists against the door several more times, and the sound echoes.

“I think we’re alone,” he says, sinking to the floor, back sliding against the wood of the door.

Jaebum says nothing. He doesn’t know where to begin. 

“So we’re supposed to talk in here, right?” And Jinyoung looks up at him, looks like he’s actually done something wrong, and Jaebum is crushed under the weight of his guilt.

Jinyoung just sighs and waits for Jaebum, who squeezes a bear between his hands, gathering courage to say it to him, to say how he’s feeling out loud. _Uh, hey, I know I’ve been a jerk, and sorry for letting everyone know we’re intimately familiar? Sorry for having feelings for you?_

“It’s not something you did,” he finally admits, deflating.

“Then what is it? You know you can tell me anything—” and Jinyoung scoots closer to him, the denim of his highwaters scratching against the floor.

“I don’t know, man. I was just mad you weren’t a girl anymore.”

“Hyung,” says Jinyoung, a little confusedly at first, and then understanding. “You know if you just wanna go out and find a girlfriend, I can always cover for you—”

“No, not just a girlfriend. I was mad YOU weren’t a girl anymore.”

“Are you saying that… are you confessing to me right now?”

Jaebum groans like he’s being forced to watch his Dream High 2 clips ad nauseum. 

Jinyoung is thoughtful, quiet, but he presses on, curious and open as usual. “Honestly, I had no idea. I just thought we might as well take the opportunity while I was still a girl, but if I had known you had feelings for me, girl me, I wouldn’t have said anything about it.”

And that’s when Jaebum finally relaxes, sighs, pulls a coat from the hanger and lies down on the floor. “It’s not your fault, though. It’s mine. It’s mine for being lonely.”

Jinyoung pulls a hippo plushie out of the box and lies down next to him. “Yeah, that is your fault, then. You know I’m always going to be here for you. Same with everyone else.”

The realization is slow but definite, and Jaebum feels silly for worrying at all. “So… are we good?” and reaches his hand out for a high five.

Jinyoung smacks that shit out of the air. “Of course. ‘Without you, there’d be no me.’”

—————

They are good. Bambam opens the door half an hour later with a huge smile on his face, probably expecting hugs, only to be swiftly tackled by Jaebum. Jackson rushes out of his room as soon as he hears Bambam’s screams and finds him flattened by the duo; Jaebum’s got him in a chokehold while Jinyoung sits on his legs, tickling his feet. Mark is also out there, but only to point and laugh. Jackson takes it all in for a moment before bodyslamming all of them. “I’m so happy JJ Project’s together again,” he blubbers, and Jinyoung and Jaebum grin at each other above his head.

 

 

They’re onstage at a fan meeting, and amidst the continuous fluttering of camera shutters and desperate preening, Jaebum feels someone’s stare bore into him. He turns to his right and locks eyes with Jinyoung, his gaze meaningful and searching, his lips turned up into a smirk like he can’t help it. Jaebum looks back, tries to give as good as he gets, and they burst into laughter, smiles finally reaching their eyes.


End file.
